She Waits
by Avia Tantella Scott
Summary: Whether Caspian X knew it or not, the women who loved him most were always waiting for him in one way or another. A series of one-shot reflections. Newest and final chapter: The Edge of the World. COMPLETE.
1. The Telmarine Castle

**She Waits  
Reflections on Caspian X from the Women Who Loved Him Most**

**I. The Telmarine Castle**

She waits in the silken sheets of her marriage bed, propped up by plush pillows and surrounded by her dutiful ladies-in-waiting. The searing pain in her belly is becoming stronger and more frequent, and she knows it won't be long now.

She is frightened, just as much as she is filled with excitement. She is about to join that elite group that is as old as the ages – the club of motherhood. It has been nine long months that she has felt this babe growing inside her; she has watched her body change from a slender, graceful form to the rotund, pudgy shape she now sees before her. She has felt the discomfort of an awkwardly placed baby putting pressure on seemingly every bone and organ in her midsection, and she has felt the exhilaration of that first kick, the sharp jab that not only made her wince but proved to her incredulous mind once and for all that there really, truly was another life growing inside her. From that moment in particular, her excitement grew exponentially with every passing day. No longer was she simply proud to be giving her husband a child, but she was anxious to meet and coddle and love the very real baby that was genuinely hers. That small kick, the first of many, began her musings over names, her rapture in cradles and toys and bonnets and tiny, perfect stockings, and her adoration of the ever-swelling belly that heretofore had brought some despair over the loss of her beautiful figure.

She has passed hours debating names for the baby, though she knew that her husband would inevitably have the primary voice on that topic. A boy would be easy – he would be Caspian like his father and the eight other fathers who came before him – but a girl, that would be different situation entirely. She had no ambitions of naming a girl-child after herself, and so was able to delight in the multitude of lovely names that she could bestow upon what could only be the most beautiful little girl in all the kingdom.

In her months of confinement, and when she was well enough, she had embroidered what seemed to be enough baby-clothes to fill ten score large trunks. Every stitch brought a sense of pride in already doing so much to care and provide for her baby. As if he wouldn't already have wealth and land, subjects and a crown imparted to him from the moment of his birth, her baby would also have innumerable clothes constructed by the castle seamstresses and embroidered by a mother who loved him more than anything in this world or any other.

She wonders at how she can already be so completely filled with love and adoration for a person that she has not yet met.

She glances to her left, brushing a sweat-matted lock of dark hair out of her eyes so that she can better glimpse the darling cradle that awaits a newborn occupant. It was a gift from some nobleman or another; she'd quite forgotten who in the flurry of well-wishes and presents that had arrived in the last few months. She did remember how she had practically swooned over it at first sight, how she had since often maneuvered her cumbersome body to the ground so that she might practice rocking it and imagine that she was lulling to sleep the baby that she yet held inside her. Soon, if she could only be patient a short while longer, she would at last be able to rock more than blankets and a tiny pillow.

The room is hot; though her ladies have thrown open a window to the winter air she still feels impossibly warm. Sweat rolls down her lovely face in large beads and plasters tendrils of hair to her forehead, cheeks, and neck. One of her ladies, an older woman, wipes her brow with a cool, wet bit of cloth. This provides only momentary relief, and she wishes that she could fly out into the cold night and feel the wind against her skin.

The pain intensifies again for a moment, and she is reminded of her fears. She already feels so weak, and because this is her first child she doesn't know whether she is in the middle of the natural progression of labor or if something is wrong. One part of her wonders that she is this fatigued; another recalls the pain and the long hours of labor passed and understands. But she had always been a frail thing, slow to heal and prone to illness. Her mother used to tease that she could catch a cold merely from looking out a leaded-glass window on a winter evening, and her father worried when her recoveries from even minor illnesses far outlasted those of her brothers and sisters. Her pregnancy has been plagued by sickness and fatigue, but often she was assured that her fellow mothers had all endured the same annoyances. What her consolers didn't know, however, was that despite her physical weakness she is remarkably intelligent and very perceptive. She has caught the looks that have passed between them that suggested that they were not being entirely truthful in assuaging her fears. Childbearing is a dangerous business, and she is more at risk for mishap than many.

A few moments to breathe, and then another labor pain wracks her frail body. Her hands bunch into white-knuckled fists around clumps of bedsheets, and she tries very hard not to cry out. Her jaws ache from gritting her teeth together so hard, but she barely notices that pain as all of her nerve endings are screaming from the lower half of her body. When her lungs begin to burn she remembers to breathe, and a small noise escapes from her lips as she greedily gulps for air. The pain subsides, and she is vaguely aware of the ladies' soothing words of praise and encouragement.

Another compress is passed across her forehead as she looks down at her right hand. Oh, how she wishes that her husband could be allowed to hold that hand and comfort her! She has always delighted in the feeling of his big, strong hand encasing her small, delicate one. Even before love came, when they were still newlyweds who barely knew one another, she had adored it when he would grasp her hand. It has always felt as if all of her weakness, all her fragility, disappeared and was replaced only by Caspian's self-assured strength.

She cannot believe that two years have passed since they were wed in the enormous Hall in the castle of Caspian's fathers. Good Caspian VIII had only lived a few days more; it was his ill health that had expedited the engagement. She had met Caspian IX only a very few times before she became his wife: once when they were children and later when she was fourteen, both times when her father had brought her entire family from their sprawling northern estate to the Telmarine capital on holiday. The next time she saw her future husband was when he came to her home to meet her a final time before asking for her hand. By then, she was seventeen and had become known throughout the kingdom as a great beauty. He was twenty-two, and needed no more than a glance at her before (as he said) he fell in love. Their engagement was shortened from two years to one when the King became ill, and by her nineteenth birthday she found herself both a wife and a Queen.

Her affection for her new husband took longer than her rise to a position in the monarchy. There was no denying that he was good to her, gentle and kind and not opposed to sentimental words or a stolen kiss or two when no one was looking, but she was a sensible sort of girl who was not given to romantic fantasies. She had accepted her arranged marriage well enough, and counted herself lucky that her betrothed was quite handsome. She didn't fuss or fight or cling desperately to dreams of true love and marriage for it, but went willingly to her husband's side at the altar and, if apprehensively, his bed. She respected him and knew him to be a good and honorable man, and from that esteem eventually came love, tentative at first but now as ardent as that which was returned to her.

She wants him now; she wants his kiss on her lips and his deep voice breathing adoring words in her ear. She debates sending a lady for him. He would be waiting with his brother Miraz, who is altogether a different man than Caspian. Her husband loves his younger brother and trusts him implicitly, but her keen intuition causes her to be slightly nervous around the Prince. His smiles have always seemed strange to her, and his words have often suggested other meanings that she cannot decipher. She does not go so far as to suspect Miraz of traitorous or dangerous thought, for there were times that she observed the two brothers laughing and carrying on as she could only imagine they had as boys, and she saw in Miraz's eyes a respect and admiration for his older brother. Still, there is something about the younger son of Caspian VIII that has always disarmed her.

Once, when they were alone in the same bedchamber she now occupies, she had mentioned her feelings to her husband.

"Miraz?" he had repeated, with one of his great, booming laughs. "You need only get to know him better, my darling. He has been gruff and quiet since we were boys. And besides," here he made her blush as his hand snaked its way up her leg, "you cannot fault him for his strange behavior in your presence. It is not Miraz's fault that his brother is married to a woman who is far lovelier than his betrothed Prunaprismia may ever hope to be."

His kisses had ended the discussion, and she has not broached the subject again. Perhaps she was wrong after all, and she trusts Caspian's judgment unreservedly.

No, she decides, she will not send for him. She attempts to find her own strength, to prove to her husband, his brother, and the kingdom that she is not as fragile and weak as they all believe. Heretofore, she has accepted her own nature; now she will triumph over it. She will not only bring forth a child worthy of a father's love, but will earn his pride for herself as well.

More than anything, she wishes for it to be over, for good or for ill. She cannot wait to hold in her own arms the beautiful little life inside her. She longs to get to know her baby, to learn his face and his temperaments, and to understand that earth-shattering and unconditional love that is unique to mothers. She is excited to watch with pride as the baby grows, to feel her people's adoration of their new Heir Apparent or Princess, to bask in the joy of their joy but know that it will be her that the child will love most of all.

She already wants so much for the tiny little being that does not even have a face or a name, and yet that moment when they will meet at last still seems so very, very far away. She is tired, more tired than she has ever been before, and the pain hurts her so that she can do nothing but allow the silent tears to fall and try her hardest to be brave about it. The moment she longs for has not yet come, but it draws nearer by the moment. She must be strong; she _will_ be strong. The baby will come in his own time. And she will continue to wait.

**Up Next: The Narnian Coastline**


	2. The Narnian Coastline

**II. The Narnian Coastline**

She waits along the coastline, seated upon a hard wooden bench as the little rowboat traces a steady path along the shore. Her shoulders and back ache from hours of rowing, and her entire body is feeling the unpleasant effects of too much time spent sitting on the uncomfortable wooden plank. It is hot, and the sun glinting off the crystal blue ocean hurts her eyes, but this she hardly notices. Edmund has relieved her again at the oars, and now she has a few moments to herself for a respite and a good think before she does the same for Peter.

In her short life, she cannot recall many instances when she has felt this uncertain, confused, and utterly lost. Her emotions are so many and so mixed that she is worried that she might suddenly burst out laughing or crying – or both at once.

She scans the faces of her siblings and wonders that they should seem so calm while her insides are in such turmoil. Lucy's face is positively alight with joy as she revels in all of Narnia's glorious beauty, and the boys' faces are screwed up with exertion and concentration as they endlessly repeat the exhausting rowing motion that propels their little boat forward. The return to England had been difficult for all of them. It is imaginably rather brutal to suddenly find yourself ripped from one world to another, especially from a place in which you had been so very important and your life so very wonderful to one where you were nothing out of the ordinary and the entire world was embroiled in the most real hell there can be on Earth. In Narnia they had been no strangers to conflict and turmoil; though Narnia was largely a peaceful nation there had been scattered occasions when the boys had been called upon to don their armor and go to war. She had hated every moment of those times, and still cannot understand why Lucy's face had held such a wistful look as they had watched their brothers ride off to battle. But somehow the war in their own world had seemed so much worse, and she was glad when their years were stripped away and her brothers were boys again in a world where only men fought in such monstrous battles. Now, however, they have returned to a place where boys can become heroes, and it seems as though war has found her brothers once more.

She shakes her head as if to banish her thoughts forcefully from her mind. She must not think such dark thoughts on such a bright day. Regardless of the circumstances, her heart is still singing because it recognizes this feeling – the feeling of _home_. She has missed it these last months, and even though the landscape has changed and their once-beautiful castle has fallen into ruin, every atom of her body remembers this place. A smile crosses her face before she even realizes it, and she closes her eyes and tilts her chin up to allow the sun's warm rays to kiss her skin. She is reminded of long days in the bright sunshine, watching her brothers compete valiantly in tournaments, picnicking along the shoreline, racing her beloved mare across the windswept plain to the west of Cair Paravel. She remembers sea voyages to far-off kingdoms both friendly and antagonistic, accompanying the kitchen staff to the nearby towns on market days, and walks at noontide in the palace courtyard. Despite how very different a world can become over a millennium, it is good to know that there are some things that will stay constant and true.

"It's so lovely to feel the Narnian sun again," comes Lucy's voice. "I had nearly forgotten how much stronger and warmer it feels."

Her sister's nose is growing pink from the very sun she speaks of, but she doesn't seem to mind in the least. Although their return to England had been arduous for all of them in their own ways, Lucy was perhaps the most selfless sufferer of them all, for she was filled with the most hope. She cried more for their estrangement from their old friends, and seemingly from Aslan, rather than the loss of their wonderful life and the dramatic disparity between the Golden Age Kings and Queens and the Pevensie children from Finchley. Her little sister never lost her unwavering trust in Aslan and her hold on the belief that he would one day call them back. For Lucy, it was as if they had all gone to the coast on holiday, had a marvelous time, and might hope to return the next summer. For Susan, Edmund, and Peter, it sometimes had felt as though their vacation-house had burned to the ground and left no trace of their joy having existed at all. They had felt lost and off-center.

They had been thrust back in the very middle of those most awkward and uncomfortable phases of growing-up, and although they had the decided advantage over their fellow children of having gone through it all before, in some ways it was much worse. Poor Peter's voice was changing for the second time, which made him self-conscious, but this time his siblings did not extend even the most lighthearted joke about it. Rather, they simply waited patiently until the boyish cracking would give way to the rich, deeper tones they remembered so well.

For Peter, the hardest part was learning to act like a proper child again. For so long, he had been the very best of men, strong and sure even under the weight of responsibility that was heavier for him than the others. He was still getting used to being taken care of, when just a year earlier it was he who was doing the caring. She knew that it pained him when adults benevolently denied him certain responsibilities, thinking that he was still too young to handle them. Even though her brother had always been mature for his age, grown-ups still were unable to see the man desperate to out-grow the prison of his little-boy body.

Edmund's trials were something of an opposite situation. He had betrayed trust so many times before they'd first gone to Narnia that he was having trouble earning it back. Even though nearly everyone could see how very much and how very suddenly the younger Pevensie boy had changed, many adults were still wary that his old behaviors would return. Edmund constantly felt the need to prove himself, but in a different way than before. Previously, he was desperate to distance himself from Peter's model-child shadow; now he strove to prove himself as Edmund. Although her younger brother never spoke of it, Peter had told her that Edmund had also had some trouble at school, where children are much less accepting of radical personality-changes than family members.

She, herself, suffered many of the same distresses as her siblings: homesickness, loss of direction, nostalgia. But for Susan, it was hardest to be ordinary again. In Narnia, she had grown to be a renowned beauty, and men from all corners of the world had fought and competed for her hand in marriage. She had been beautiful, and she had been special, but at the time had looked upon the scores of suitors as something of an inconvenience, almost an annoyance. Then, she had been brutally thrust back into England, where another year brought about the age when the last thing on boys' minds is falling in love while girls are absolutely desperate for it. Where in Narnia men had sought her above all others, in England she was just another pretty girl in a sea of pretty girls, many of whom had the added advantage of money. She isn't vain, or perhaps only a very little bit so, but at 13 a girl's self-esteem is often so inextricably linked to popular opinion that it is difficult for her not to pay an extra moment's attention to her appearance.

She glances over her shoulder. The boys are still hard at work at the oars, sweating and uncomfortable but bearing it all magnificently. The gruff little Dwarf Trumpkin has a keen eye on the shoreline and a sure hand on the tiller as he steers the boat along. Beside her, Lucy's face is absolutely alight with joy as she reaches a small hand down to brush at the water.

She wishes often that she could feel the happiness that Lucy never seems to lack. Now, she is so very torn up inside that such unbridled glee seems far away. On one hand, she IS joyful. It is so delightful to be home again. But on the other, she is terrified. Knowing how difficult it was to be sent home the first time, her innate sense of self-preservation urges her to keep a guard up and not allow herself too much joy lest it turn to an even worse heartache when Aslan again sends them across the chasm between the two worlds. One part of her is dying to relish every moment, to jump and shout and laugh and rejoice at having found their way home at last. Another, more sensible part warns that such exhilaration would be short lived. Something inside of her warns that this time they will not stay long. Previously, they came to fill the empty thrones in Cair Paravel; now they've come to put someone else in them. Surely if Aslan intended them to stay long, there would be no need to go through so much trouble to secure a throne for another ruler. She almost feels as though she is holding her breath, waiting for the moment when they are once again tossed between the worlds.

Her thoughts turn to the task ahead, the reason why they have been called back at all: to restore this Caspian fellow to a new throne over all the Narnians and not just the conqueror's seat of tyranny his usurping uncle was enjoying. Although she certainly wouldn't admit it to herself or anyone else, she can't help but be slightly skeptical and more than slightly jealous of the new boy-king. Susan was far too gracious to believe that she and her siblings had been the very best and most infallible of rulers – she could remember many times when they had made poor decisions – but there was something painful about the thought of someone replacing them. A small part of Susan wanted to wonder at why Aslan would go through all the trouble of bringing them back just to install someone else in their place. She couldn't help but be skeptical that this Telmarine, this son of generations of conquerors who had oppressed Narnians for centuries, could possibly love her country enough to be a good and just ruler of it. It might have been jealousy that he would be crowned King and probably spend the rest of his days in the land she loved so much while she would inevitably return to England, but in Susan's eyes Caspian had a great deal to prove.

As she scans the shoreline, she vaguely recognizes where they are and thinks that they might not be far from Glasswater. Her guess is confirmed a moment later when Peter, his breath short from exertion, announces that they should be sighting their destination any moment now. Trumpkin grunts his agreement, but Edmund only silently continues the work of rowing. Lucy looks slightly disappointed to be leaving the sea behind. As for Susan, she is anxious to move further inland. She wants to compare the Narnia of this new age with the place she remembers, and she wants to see and evaluate this new king for herself. Although he doesn't know it, he is even now deeply mired in the first of the tasks that will prove his worth to the Gentle Queen. Despite their haste, there is still a long way to go. He will hold off his own people until the Kings and Queens he called can arrive. And she will continue to wait.

**Up Next: Cair Paravel**

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**Author's Endnote:** Well, there it is! Believe it or not, this is one of my first attempts at writing canon, so I'd really appreciate any feedback you might be willing to give. Also, as I stated in the first chapter, I am still in need of a beta if anyone's interested! I'll try to update MUCH sooner with the next chapter... my goal is to have the whole story done by Christmas. Only three chapters left, so it should be feasible. In theory. Thanks to everyone for reading!


	3. Cair Paravel

**III: Cair Paravel**

She waits in Cair Paravel, the newly rebuilt Narnian capital that had only just this year been completed to its former glory. It is early morning, not yet time for her chores, and she relishes in the quiet and half-darkness of the new day. Although she has called the castle home for some time now, it still feels new and fresh and full of promise. Each morning dawns with a bright hope she hadn't known in her previous life. Back then, she was completely and blissfully ignorant of the fact that she was living in a dark time; it wasn't until after the war, when the great Lion and the four Kings and Queens of old had come and set things to right that she realized how grand and wonderful life was to be in comparison. It wasn't that things were all that bad in the years preceding the war – her family had never wanted for food and every now and again they even had a little bit of extra money for some amusement or a new dress for her or her sisters. But now, with Miraz gone and the Lion she never knew existed watching over Narnia, everything seems right in a way that it hadn't before.

Her residence at Cair had begun about three years ago, when the newly-crowned King Caspian issued the order to have the ancient castle rebuilt. Hers had been a family who politely declined Aslan's offer to leave this world and return to the one from which their ancestors had supposedly come. Her father had always been a man of hope, but not adventure, and the thought of leaving the land of his birth was none too appealing. Rather, he immediately heeded the new King's call for laborers; he was tired of being a farmer and thought he might try his hand at masonry. The family had moved from Beruna to be nearer to the new castle, and she had soon secured a job in the palace that was still under construction. It was also there that she had gotten her first glimpse of the ocean. It was so vast and wild and unfamiliar that she almost trembled at the sight of it. At the same time, however, it held none of the fear that Miraz and his predecessors had tried to instill into their populace. Soon enough she was learning to swim, and even now one of her favorite pastimes is to stroll along its shores as the sun sets in the opposite direction.

She was only a girl then, ever so much younger than the fifteen years she now claimed. So much had happened in that short space of time that had turned her into a woman; she had found her first employment aside from the chores on her family's farm, witnessed her two older sisters leaving the family nest and settling with their own husbands, watched her body change from all knees and elbows to something resembling a womanly figure…

And she had fallen in love.

He is tall and handsome, with golden hair and a noble face. He carries himself with an air of such confidence and kindness that it almost makes her breathless. No matter the number of people or Creatures (admittedly, she is still getting used to the presence of Talking Animals and all the other Narnians who had come out of hiding after the war) who might surround him, he is the only thing her eyes can see. He commands any room he enters, so much more now than a couple of short years before.

There is only one problem. Her beloved is the King of Narnia.

Although he knows her by name, it is not because he pays her any special attentions, but rather because he had made it a point to learn the names of all of the castle's workers. He is kind and nothing but gallant to his servants, to be sure, but her heart longs for more than a polite word of thanks after she serves him his luncheon or a smile when they pass in a corridor. She wants him to have eyes that seek her out in a crowded room, a special smile he reserves for her, and secret words of love to be shared between themselves and no one else. Her stomach churns when his eyes and greetings fall upon the other serving girls, and though she knows that he no more thinks of them as potential queens than Doctor Cornelius, it still awakens the angry beast of jealousy and, more often than she'd like to admit, a tear or two. What she wouldn't give for the chance to declare her love for him and have the words returned to her from his own lips! Each day spent working in Cair Paravel is filled with the anxious, heart-fluttering anticipation of passing the King in a hallway or being assigned to attend to his meals or personal chambers. Unfortunately, most of the other young serving girls hold the same hopes and the all-knowing castle steward benevolently assures that those wonderful privileges are shared equally between them all.

Things are different now, of course, and have been for the past two months. The King has gone to sea and not a single woman received the honor of accompanying him on his voyage. Her heart had sunk when he had announced his plan, and fell still further when he told all of the assembled palace workers that he would be gone for an eternal-sounding year and a day. How was she to live when her heart was so very far away?

As a means of coping with the torrent of emotions she felt at his departure, she tried to be angry at him for abandoning his country so soon after becoming the lord of it. Unfortunately, she soon realized that there was no rational accusation to be made against his rule thus far. He is a young king, to be sure, and occasionally makes the mistakes any new monarch might make in his place, but everyone she knows agrees that he is fair and just and in every way an improvement over his uncle. Caspian the Tenth is well-liked among his people, both those who were Narnian by birth and those who had once considered themselves Telmarines. In the three years he has been King he has grown into a most capable ruler and promises to become one of the greatest kings in Narnian history.

Well, perhaps she might be just the littlest bit biased on that account.

Has it really only been two months since he had left? Does she really have ten more to wait until she can again expect to see his winsome smile lighting up the Great Hall? She had never had trouble waking to be to her chores on time, but since the King had set sail she has been finding it harder and harder to leave her little room in the servants' quarters behind in favor of the castle corridors that now seem so empty and bleak without him. As much as she used to love the dawn, with each new day the sun seems darker and darker. Narnia prospers, state business has not stopped in the King's absence, and there are still tiny construction projects being completed here and there, but she has trouble believing that life continues in the same way when the man who has been the very center of hers is so distant. She anxiously counts the days until she can expect to see his ship on the horizon. At times, she even dares to hope that he might give up his adventure and return home early; often, her daydreams include him realizing that he has left his love behind and cannot bear another day apart from her. In these fantasies, Caspian abandons his mission and rushes home, scooping her into his arms and tossing away her cleaning rags. She would be made his wife and queen that very day.

When that day comes, she will no longer be a serving girl in a sea of castle employees, but the lady of the house. The wistful glances of the other girls will no longer mean competition, but victory. She will have dresses for each new banquet or holiday and one of the lovely empty chambers that she now occasionally cleans of dust. Those rooms will be her very own, though she will spend most of her time in shared quarters with her husband. He will see how witty and bright she is, know how ardently she has loved him since first seeing him so many years before, and return that affection with everything he has. When he goes away, visiting other nations on affairs of state or to sea on some grand adventure, he won't dream of leaving her behind. She will see all the wondrous places of the world that heretofore have only been as real to her as the pages in the books she borrows from the extensive castle library. They will be all the more marvelous with her handsome and devoted husband by her side, and he will whisper in her ear that he would never have enjoyed them fully without her presence. And someday, in the very distant future, a child of her own flesh and blood will be crowned King or Queen and all the history books will remember her as the beautiful and adored wife of one of Narnia's greatest Kings.

For now, however, she has stared out at the eternal and unchanging sea for long enough. With minor construction still continuing and the constant coming and going of Narnians and foreign emissaries, there is always a mess to be cleaned up. She must hurry to the kitchens or she will be late to receive today's work assignment, and such a crime might be punishable by less favorable chores when the King comes home. She will make it through this day as she has made it through so many already: by concentrating on her work and only occasionally allowing her mind to wander across the ocean to where her love stands tall and proud on the deck of a most magnificent ship with a bow shaped like a dragon's head. She will shine silver and clean curtains and scrub pots and sweep floors with her face turned to the east. There, in distant lands whose names she doesn't know, Caspian will have his adventures; he will see far-off places that a servant girl may only hope to dream about. He will bring honor and renown to himself and Narnia, and one day will turn the _Dawn Treader_ around and return an even more glorious King than he left. And she will continue to wait.

**Up Next: Galma**


	4. Galma

**IV: Galma**

_"'We thought the Duke would have been pleased if the King's Majesty would have married his daughter, but nothing came of that--'_

_'Squints, and has freckles,' said Caspian._

_'Oh, poor girl,' said Lucy." _

– The Voyage of the Dawn Treader

She waits in Galma, where the servants and workmen have all but erased any sign of the great banquets, tournaments, and dances that have only just ended. Their guests, in whose honor such merriment had been enjoyed, are sailing away with the morning tide to the tumultuous fanfare of trumpets. Nearly every citizen of the capital city, as well as those who have come in from the countryside to participate in the festivities, has crowded onto the docks to see off the royal envoy, creating a mob of colorful well-wishers all craning their necks to get a better view.

She feels her heart aching as the _Dawn Treader_ leaves its moorings, a sensation that intensifies as the grand ship catches the strong current and begins to move out to sea. Crew members who had once waved hearty goodbyes as the dragon-like ship pulled away now are busily at work preparing for the days of open ocean ahead. As one, the trumpets are silenced and the only sounds to be heard are of the ocean lapping against the wooden dock and the miscellaneous noises of the mob.

She stands beside her father, the proud Duke of their proud little island nation. Both are silent, and he is watching the goings-on with the noble expression he wears so often both as Duke and as Father. When the _Dawn Treader _is finally far enough away that the facial features of the men on board can no longer be distinguished, her father allows his grand smile to fall. She doesn't have to squint up at his face to make out the disappointment and shame in his eyes. She feels it to her very core, and it pains her even more than her lost chance to be the Narnian king's wife. She knows that she has failed her country, her family, and especially her father.

The Duke had made little secret of the fact that he wished for her to marry the King. She remembers the day that Caspian's letter arrived with news of his visit as a part of some grand sea voyage upon which he was embarking. The Duke had been thrilled, not only for the opportunity to entertain such a powerful young monarch and improve relations between their two already-friendly nations, but also because his only child had reached marriageable age not two years before. And what better match for his daughter and his country than the young, handsome, and very eligible bachelor King of one of the greatest countries in the world? Caspian had had three years to settle himself in the recently-rebuilt Cair Paravel and adjust to his new position as boy-King. Now, surely, he must be searching for a wife. The guise of a quest to find the lost Lords was a good one, but her father could see through that excuse to what must be the deeper purpose: an examination of all the beautiful young maidens to be found in the islands of the Great Eastern Ocean.

She had been summoned almost immediately to her father's study, where he had informed her of his hopes and expectations with no small amount of excitement. Galma was to be the _Dawn Treader_'s first stop, so there would be no maidens to whom she could be compared. She must ensnare the King immediately and win his heart before he could travel to other islands where the daughters of the nobility were older, lovelier, and perhaps even richer.

Well, the Duke didn't put it quite so bluntly. But she understood all the same.

Caspian wasn't the first suitor her father had picked for her, but he was certainly the most desirable, and the Duke made it quite clear what he expected of his only daughter. The numerous refusals she had already suffered made this particular conquest all the more important. She knew that her father loved her and that he truly did have her best interests at heart, but nevertheless she left his study feeling as though an enormous weight had just been dropped on her young and unprepared shoulders. He would never outright demand anything of her, but that didn't stop her from feeling an almost unbearable amount of pressure not to fail him.

The Fates must not have had this opportunity in mind when they decided that she was to be the baby given to the royal house of Galma. She knows that she isn't ugly, but neither is she the beauty who can bewitch a man at first demure glance. She also is not known for her witty repartee or ability to be engaging in conversation. This charge of her father's, therefore, would be much more difficult for her than for other maidens her age. She knows this fact well because she has failed in this endeavor before. There have been other suitors, of course, who have journeyed to her father's hall in the years since she came of marriageable age. Perhaps in a stroke of good fortune because the greatest suitor was yet to come, or perhaps to her shame, each had made very pretty speeches and paid her varying numbers of attentions and then left without so much as a promise to write to her.

When the King's ship had arrived, she thought she might faint with nerves and the overwhelming torrent of emotions that threatened to explode out of her. A tiny part of her was somewhat resentful of the duty before her; she had read enough romantic fantasies to be slightly distressed at the thought of her marriage meaning little more to her father and countrymen than an improved international alliance. Another part was frightfully nervous for what Caspian himself would be like and the daunting task of making herself as agreeable to him as possible. A third part was absolutely terrified of failing and the look she knew would cross her father's face if she again was unsuccessful at charming the man he had picked out for her.

The look she knows he wears now.

Any fears that the boy-King wouldn't be agreeable to her were immediately abandoned the moment she saw him disembark. He was handsome, to be sure; the rumors certainly hadn't been wrong about that. But he was also kind, and carried himself with a noble confidence that was enough to draw any girl to him almost immediately. At their introduction, she caught herself squinting and immediately adopted a blurrier, but hopefully more attractive, gaze and was rewarded with a half-seen image of what must have been a truly dazzling smile.

Throughout his stay, she tried very hard to be pleasing to his eyes, covering up her overabundance of freckles as best she could and allowing her ladies to dress her in the finest gowns she owned. She also did her best not to squint up at him, though he was so handsome that sometimes she couldn't help it. All she had wanted was a clearer look at his face.

His time in her country had been enjoyable for the both of them, though often a bit uncomfortable for her as her father made no secret of his wishes. The Duke's actions on occasion even caused the usually-confident young King to falter as he awkwardly tried to respond to strong hints that she would make him a fine wife. The blessing in it all was that she was nearly always placed close by the King's side, making it less necessary to squint because she could see him more clearly. He had been nothing but gallant to her, very cordial and all that a gentleman should be, but his words and actions seemed much more sincere than those of the men who had come before. At the same time, however, he made her no promises and the subject of marriage was never broached unless it was the Duke doing the broaching. Caspian had paid her every courtesy without deceiving her, for which she both thanked and hated him.

While it certainly made their time together more pleasant, it also unfortunately made his rejection of her, unspoken and polite though it was, all the worse. She would have rather he grimaced at the sight of her, refused to pay her any attentions, or bluntly told her that she would never be the Queen of Narnia that her father so hoped she would be. If Caspian had acted unkindly or unjustly, she could have made herself believe that it was some fault of the King's that he did not choose her. As it was, he had been nothing but perfect and she places the blame squarely and solidly on herself.

She knows that she isn't ugly, but a king of such a country as Caspian rules deserved someone much more beautiful than she is or ever could hope to be. Before, when she was just a girl, her poor eyesight had only been a nuisance and her freckles an unfortunate side effect of days spent in the strong Galman sun. Now, more and more the two seem to collaborate in betraying her and robbing her of a future.

She still feels his parting kiss burn her freckled cheek, a sensation that is in no way aided by the hot tears tracing a path down her face. He had bidden her farewell with kind but sincere words, for which she knows she could never thank him enough. Where other visitors of state had smothered her father with insincere praise for her beauty and accomplishments upon their parting, Caspian had grasped both of her hands, dropped a chaste kiss on her cheek, and told her that she possessed one of the kindest and sweetest souls he had ever had the pleasure to meet. That statement had caused her face to flush red underneath the freckles and the make-up that attempted to disguise them, and she allowed herself to squint up at him one final time to burn his handsome face more clearly in her mind. She knew that if she ever saw him again, he would probably be accompanied by a gorgeous and adoring Queen. She could only hope that by then someone would have been attracted enough to her or her title to have taken her in marriage, too.

She knows now that it will be her title that ultimately wins her a husband, unless all those wishes she has placed upon stars are finally granted and she blossoms into the beauty that she so desperately longs to be. Caspian is far too high-ranking to overlook her lack of physical attractiveness simply for political motives, but perhaps one day a man will come along to whom the idea of marrying a Duke's daughter will be quite alluring. Surely someday, whether because of her face or because of her noble blood, _someone_ will think she is beautiful.

On that day she won't have to face the disappointed look in her father's eyes. She'll know that her country is proud of her, and that she has done well that which is her duty as the Duke's daughter. This terrible heartache that threatens to rip her apart each time she watches a suitor's ship sail away will be nothing more than a long-forgotten memory. She is not a wit, and she is not a beauty, but she knows that a man would find her warm, loving, and kind if he could look past her squinty, freckled face long enough to learn her heart. Caspian had come the closest to doing so, though she is not the one with whom he is destined to be. When the time arrives, however, and someone comes to know her the way the Narnian King did, she will be the most devoted and adoring wife Galma has ever known.

The clouds are gathering as the strong western wind prepares to blow a storm over the island. This is the season for storms in Galma, just as it seems to be the season of emotional tumult in her young life. As the raindrops begin to fall, her vision, already blurred by her tears and bad eyesight, is further impaired by the dreariness. One by one and then in small groups, the mass of people around her begin to make their way to drier locales. Her father, however, stands as unmoving as the stone statues in their palace courtyard, his eyes still trained on the swiftly-disappearing Narnian ship. She stays by his side, wanting to apologize and yet feeling that her admission of failure might break the stoic façade he wears. The part of her that still remembers what it was like to be a little girl wants to take his hand in comfort both for him and for herself.

Fleetingly, she imagines what it would have been like had Caspian taken her hand in the way she had often seen her father take her mother's. She is sure that his large, warm hand lovingly enveloping hers might have been the sweetest sensation in the world.

Some things in life we will never know.

As she stares unseeing across the great sea, the rain begins to fall harder and the stormy winds propel the _Dawn Treader_ and its kingly cargo further and further away. He is now lost to the horizon just as a future with him is lost to her. One day, perhaps very soon, he will find the love meant for him. And she will continue to wait.

**Up Next: The _Dawn Treader_**

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**Author's Endnote:** Ok, so you know how I said there would be only one more chapter after this one? After some encouragement from reviewers, notably **Love and Rock Music** and **barelypassing4sane**, I've decided to add a Lucy-centric chapter. I had debated doing it, because it only makes sense considering the VDT emphasis of this story, but just needed a bit of a push to figure out how I wanted it to flow. That being said, it might be a little while until I update (as in a couple of weeks, not another year-long hiatus!) because I am out of the country and thus away from my copies of the books. I want to make sure that I stick to canon as much as possible.

One more huge thank you to those who have reviewed and a slight reminder / request to all to review this chapter if you'd be so kind... and that's all for now! Have a great day!


	5. The Dawn Treader

**Author's Note: **A rather sheepish hello to you all! My deepest apologies for the terrible delay in this chapter... I know I was trying to get it done by Christmas but then some things came up that would only bore you to list, followed by a three month trip to South America that delayed me still further. Anyway, I hope you will all forgive me and enjoy the new chapter! This one is dedicated especially to **Love and Rock Music**, for prodding me to do a Lucy chapter at all and giving some great advice about it :)

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**V. THE **_**DAWN TREADER**_

She waits aboard the _Dawn Treader_, in the cabin that had been built for a boy King but has been in the possession of a little-girl Queen for some months now. She knows that the cabin has been given to her partly because Narnia still adheres to a sense of chivalry that is quickly being forgotten back home, partly because of the revered status she can still enjoy now that the old legends are back in favor, and partly because the new King simply didn't think twice about giving up his own personal space so that she might have an extra bit of comfort. It is perfect in its simplicity, tiny but bright and cheery and so very Narnian, and she adores every inch of it. It reminds her of a similar cabin that she had shared with her sister, Susan, on a much-beloved ship in a time that had once been long-forgotten.

She misses Susan, and Peter, too. It is strange being in this world and having them so far away. Although she has not actually laid eyes on Narnian soil and much of their journey has consisted of places that she and her siblings never knew existed, there was enough familiarity in the Lone Islands and life at sea to bring back all the wonderful memories of their reign together. She is grateful to have Edmund here – and even Eustace now that he has stopped being such a beast – but it just isn't quite right without the others. Narnia is a place that they had all shared, and being here with only one brother feels a bit wrong. Although in her heart she desperately hopes that Aslan will let them stay long enough to see the Narnian mainland again, part of her doesn't want to set foot upon it without them. It feels wrong and it feels unfair.

For now, though, they are continuing eastward and sailing farther and farther from Narnia with every gust of the benevolent wind that had eased them along since their departure from the horrible Dark Island. Any moment where she will be forced to reconcile a Peter- and Susan-less Narnia with her current situation still seems quite far away.

He has just left, the boy-King to whom the cabin once belonged. He had come in only to ask her opinion on some little matter and, as usual, ended up staying much longer than a simple inquiry would usually take to be answered. She has a sneaking suspicion that he already knew the answer himself, or could have very easily figured it out on his own, but she is happy that he found the excuse to come and speak with her. Although she didn't have an overabundance of time to spend with Caspian on their previous journey to Narnia, since her arrival on the _Dawn Treader _all those months ago the two have settled easily into a fervent friendship. Where her sister was skeptical of Caspian at first, she has found that she likes him a great deal and wholeheartedly approves of Aslan's appointing him King of the land she loves almost as much as she loves the great Lion.

Caspian…

It's a simple enough name, and not at all uncommon in the history of Narnia since her reign, but the person himself is enough to unsettle, confuse, and bewilder her. Lately, she has found herself musing on him more frequently than usual, and her thoughts have often surprised her. She is a little girl again, the unfortunate victim of the linear progression of time in her own world that has been unaffected by the lifetime she spent growing up in Narnia, but she remembers being so much more than a girl whose years have only just entered double-digits. She is drawn to Caspian in a way that most girls her age don't understand. The young woman buried inside of her might remember these feelings, but they are difficult to reconcile with the body she now possesses.

She remembers how confusing and off-putting matters of the heart had been before. Even though she was the joyful, light- hearted Queen that all of Narnia adored, she was in no way immune to the flights of fancy and catching of breath brought on by a young and ardent heart. In many ways Lucy was the most open to love of all of them, having less cares and worries and experience in the Other World to taint her, and it made sense that someone who loved so earnestly in all areas of her life would be equally immune to crushes and deeper feelings as she grew up. Nothing ever came of any of it, really, aside from a stolen kiss or two during a banquet or particularly raucous Dryad festival, but nevertheless Lucy is still able to recognize feelings of love and infatuation even if her body now seems too young to understand them.

She startles herself as her mind suddenly tosses forth the word "love." Is that what she is feeling for Caspian? It sure seems that way, though it frightens her a bit to admit it. She isn't even technically a woman yet by all conventional standards, and yet the feelings that settle in the pit of her stomach when he casually brushes her hand or pulls her into a one-armed hug to congratulate her for a brilliant suggestion are certainly not those of a pre-pubescent girl. These are feelings that belong to a woman who has experienced the intricate workings of love, not the imaginings of her classmates whose only ideas of affection came from novels, overactive imaginations, or the shared experiences of their older sisters.

Is it his friendship that she values so much? They certainly have spent enough time together for any two young people to become fond of one another. Endless days at sea have a way of teaching even the fiercest of enemies to coexist and turning the most casual of acquaintances into brothers. She certainly has no illusions when it comes to his flaws; she has seen his willful side more than once, and she is not blind to the fact that even though he is a good King there is still much growing-up to be done before he possesses the nobility and grace that came so naturally to her brother Peter.

Is it the fact that he is the only person aboard the _Dawn Treader_ who is under the age of thirty but not a blood relative? Of all the crew, Caspian would be the logical choice for an object of her affections. Perhaps it is purely a matter of availability.

Regardless of the reason that he has become so forefront in her mind, she is lost and confused and not for the first time feeling the annoyance that comes from being held prisoner in a body and at an age that is entirely too young. Oh, that Susan were here! Susan, who understands the pain of being a pretty girl again when she knows she was once the most beautiful woman in the North. Susan, to whom she can confide fears and feelings that her brothers, while sympathetic, could never hope to understand simply because they are male. Susan, who could reassure her that she is not a freak for being a ten-year-old girl who knows what it is like to love and be loved in a way that has nothing to do with family members or friends. Lucy has never been one to mind being the only girl (or woman) in a company of men, but tonight she would give any number of the jewels she once owned to be able to release her pent-up emotions into the sympathetic ear of a woman.

The light of the few candles flickers off the three windows, the flames dancing against the glass and obscuring the stars from view. She suddenly feels claustrophobic and decides to take a turn around the deck. As she flees from the room that has suddenly become much too small to contain the weight of her emotions, she offers up a hurried prayer that most of the crew, and especially Edmund, Eustace, and Caspian, will have all gone to bed so that she might have the night to herself. Even Reepicheep, that dear and valiant Mouse whom she so adores, would be a most unwelcome companion tonight.

She breathes a sigh of relief as her bare feet find the smooth wood of the upper decks. Aside from the night watch and a man whose features are obscured by the night manning the helm, the _Dawn Treader_ is deserted. She relishes in the sweet night air, her mind already feeling soothed if not exactly clearer. She has always felt the calmest when staring out over the sea. Now, as the innumerable unfamiliar but dazzling stars shine down and pierce the thick darkness of the night with their beauty, she is reminded of how very small she is in such a big world. It is not a frightening feeling, but rather a soothing one, reminding her that no vexation is so big that it can blot out the beauty of Aslan's creation. Her confusion has not abandoned her, but it no longer threatens to suffocate her.

It doesn't make much sense anyway, she reasons, holding out hope for Caspian. First and foremost, the very thought that he might share her feelings is almost ludicrous. She is an eleven-year-old girl, for goodness sake, and although she might not always act like one she certainly looks the part. Although Caspian is only five years her elder now, certainly no sixteen-year-old boy would find himself attracted to a girl who hasn't even begun to resemble a woman. He dotes upon her, to be sure, and values her friendship, experience, and advice above that of many, but surely it is only in the same way that Peter or Edmund love and trust her: as an attentive and indulging older brother.

Secondly, even those who know and love the tales in which she grew up and became a woman would certainly be a bit squeamish about their King courting a girl who is still too young to have begun her monthly courses. It would be years before any sort of courting could be done, and only Aslan knows if they have that sort of time. Her last visit to Narnia had lasted only a few months and then Peter and Susan had been told they would never return. Why in this world or any other would she have any reason to think that Aslan would will her to stay for years without them? She holds very little hope that Aslan will allow her and Edmund to stay long enough for her to reach an age where an attachment would no longer be scandalous.

Even if she is given the chance to grow up again, she would have to wait on the possibility that one day he might fancy her. And in that time, she knows, unless her feelings change she would also always be waiting for the day when he announces to her and the kingdom that he has found the woman who will be the next Queen of Narnia. That, she knows, was a moment she could await forever.

No, better to try to act like the eleven-year-old girl that she is and ignore any older-Lucy feelings that might come along until a time arrives when her body and her mind are no longer so very different.

When her mind isn't occupied by a certain golden-haired King, she has been thinking quite a bit on the subject of their return to England. The fact that this quite possibly could be her last time in Narnia has not escaped her. Neither of her oldest siblings ever told her or Edmund exactly what the Lion had said to them the day he sent them back, but she has a feeling that she will be finding out for herself sooner rather than later. The last time they had been to Narnia had been so short, and by all accounts things are going well on the mainland. After the sea voyage ends, she doesn't know that there will be much use for her in a kingdom that seems to be enjoying a time of peace and a capable King. Although it chills her heart to think so, perhaps Narnia simply might not need its Golden Age monarchs anymore.

Despite her despair in that thought, she is happy enough that her beloved land is in such a fortunate state. If Aslan does tell them that they are never to return, at least one good thing will come of it – there will be no more goodbyes. Although the one to come will certainly be heart-wrenching in its finality, she is no stranger to this pain. After the battle and all the events that established Caspian as King, all four of the Pevensies said their goodbyes as if they would be the last. For Peter and Susan, they were. There was no hope of going back. For Edmund and Lucy, the finality of the goodbyes were a precaution. They had hope of getting back into Narnia, and were almost guaranteed it by virtue of their exclusion from their siblings' talk with Aslan, but if things turned out like the last time they might find themselves back in a Narnia a thousand years removed from the one they knew. Therefore, they had said farewell to Caspian, Trumpkin, dear Trufflehunter, and all the others as if for the last time, and she and Edmund had been overjoyed to find that only three years, rather than a millennium, had gone by when they arrived soaking wet on the deck of the _Dawn Treader_.

Whatever the outcome is to be, whatever the future holds for her, she must wait. If she, Edmund, and Eustace do stay in Narnia, she must wait for her body to catch up to the age that her mind feels it is. If Aslan's will is that they go home soon after the voyage, then she is waiting to be violently and heart-achingly pulled back to her own world. Perhaps, though she doesn't want to think about it, she is also waiting for Caspian to find a Queen… someone who is not her. Or maybe she is waiting for that day when he declares that it is she that he loves above all others.

For now, though, she will try her best to be content in the great fortune that has befallen her. She is back in the world that she still calls home, caught up in the most exciting of quests, and for now the man who could claim her heart still has a smile he gives only to her. As he has for the past months, he will lead them all on an adventure the likes of which the world has never known. And she will continue to wait.

**Up Next: The Edge of the World**

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Author's Endnote: **Well, there you be! I hope that it was worth the wait... this one was a little tricky for me. I have also gone back and reposted the first four chapters after doing a bit of editing and finding some rather appalling tense issues. Once again I will reiterate my plea for a beta, if anyone has the time and wouldn't mind terribly.

I'm making no promises about the next chapter seeing as how my last promise was so epically broken, but I do have quite a leap on the next chapter and hope to have it up soon. I'm a bit sad to say that I am fairly certain that it will be the last one.

A huge bucket of thanks to everyone who has reviewed... it's been absolutely wonderful and perhaps even a bit overwhelming :)


	6. The Edge of the World

**Author's Note: **Well, at long last, here it is: the final chapter! I again apologize for the delay... I promise I have a good excuse! It also took me a while to get this chapter to where I wanted it to be. But enough babbling... Enjoy!

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VI. The Edge of the World**

She waits at the Edge of the World, where each new day her song brings forth the sun and the sun-birds that feast at Aslan's table. This is the only home she has ever known, this quiet existence with her father the Star and the routine she has repeated daily since childhood and never questioned. But something is changing now; she can feel it in the air and see it in her father's eyes even though each day still plays out the same as the one before. Something is coming: something new, something that will interrupt the course of her life as she knows it now. Like the firebirds, something is hiding just beyond the horizon.

Change is something with which she is terribly unfamiliar, but some part of her has always known that her life would not be the same forever. She realizes that it will not be her fate to live out her days on this island in the same way she does now. With each passing day her father grows younger and younger, and soon enough the time will come for him to retake his rightful place as a guardian of the heavens. She also knows that there is no such place reserved for her, that her life is to be played out among the other beings of this world. Her father has told her stories, of course, grand tales of battles won and love lost, of the great deeds and mortal shames of the race called Men. It is this race, he has told her, to which she will one day belong.

Her mother, too, belonged to that world. She knows this much about her, though not much else. Despite their many years with only each other for company, her father has only very rarely brought up the subject of his daughter's mother. She can see that it is a source of great pain for him, though she doesn't know why, and out of love for him had stopped asking questions when she was little more than a girl. Back then, her curiosity was only to find out about this third person who had once been a part of their lives but was no longer. His stories had often included these interesting and unfamiliar creatures called mothers, and her small mind had wondered if she had ever had one and, if so, where she was now.

When she was a little girl, she had asked her father about her mother. The first time she had asked, he had gotten a faraway, vacant look on his face as he stared off into the Eastern horizon. A few minutes later, which seemed impossibly long in her child's mind, he returned his gaze to her and told her that that was a story for another time. Perhaps when she was a little bit older, he would tell the story of her mother.

She had frowned, unsatisfied, but hadn't pushed the issue any farther that day. A few days later, when he once again sat down to tell her a story, she asked if she was old enough yet to hear about her Mother. Again, he request was denied.

As she grew, she would occasionally attempt another inquiry, but as each one was met with a kind and sad-eyed refusal, she slowly stopped asking and simply accepted the fact that she had had a mother once and didn't anymore. As she grew, she learned that she would probably never be quite old enough to hear the story. It wasn't her age that mattered; the passing of the years was not only making her older but making it less easy for her father to talk about the subject.

Her questions had only been prompted by curiosity, not sadness or a sense of missing out on something very important. Having grown up without a mother and having had no others present in her life with whom she could compare her experience, she feels neither slighted nor much upset by the fact that she no longer has a female presence in her life. For as long as she can remember it has always been just her and her father, and she neither yearns for a mother nor pities herself for her lack of one. Her father has been nothing short of wonderful (she assumes, again having nothing to compare) and by all measures she counts herself highly blessed

But now there is a different look in her father's eyes and concern lines his face in a way that it should not appear on the visage of a man growing younger. Something is coming, a change that both of them are powerless to avoid. Though a reserved man by nature, her father has been even quieter of late and has taken to giving her an extra kiss goodnight. His morning song is deeper, more fervent, than before, and when he grasps her hand he always gives it an additional squeeze before letting it go.

She hasn't asked any questions of her father since she began noticing the change, and she is almost afraid to because she knows that he will not be able to distract her so easily now that she has grown. She also does not want to give voice to the sadness that she sees in her father's eyes out of worry that it will break what seems to be a carefully constructed façade of strength and resignation.

Perhaps it has something to do with her dreams. They have changed lately; no longer are her father's stories or their life together on the island the pleasant subjects of her nightly visions. Increasingly frequently a stranger is appearing to her. His face is blurry, and her dream-self often squints hard to try to make out his features. He has been growing increasingly clear to her as the weeks pass; she can now discern his golden hair and skin tanned from the sun. There is a boat, too, but it is unlike the boat that the Sleepers brought with them. This one, or what she can make out of it, is small and colorful and regal in every way.

There are other dreams, too; dreams that include snakes and children and creatures that she has never seen before. Some are frightening, so much so that she wakes up from the green-tinged visions in a cold sweat with the light, airy blankets of her little bed tangled up around her legs like snakes. Others are so very pleasant, the kind that you can't remember but leave behind a feeling of contented excitement that lasts the whole day. As much as other dreams frighten her, it is this kind that give her peace and a hope that this unknown change that is coming will not be entirely terrifying.

Perhaps this change will have something to do with the Sleepers, the three men who have slumbered so long at Aslan's Table. She had almost forgotten about them, really; as time passed their hair and beards had grown until the people underneath were barely discernible as men at all. They neither moved nor made any sort of sound, and therefore as each day passed their presence had receded further and further from the front of her mind. She barely noticed them as the sun-birds feasted around them, concentrating instead on her song and the glory that Aslan shone down on each bright new day. Now that things were different she notices them with a renewed interest. Surely their presence on the island is no coincidence… could she dare to assume that their fates are intertwined with hers?

She remembers the Sleepers' arrival but only barely, for she was very young when their boat ran aground. They were nearly dead, mumbling something about a quest and other things that her small child's mind didn't understand. Her father had mercifully put them to sleep, she remembered, and she had watched curiously as the first people she had ever seen aside from her father and herself fell into a state of eternal dreaming. After it was done her father had gathered her into his arms and whispered in her ear that it would all be explained someday, but not to worry because that revelation was many years away and wasn't today a lovely day to spend at the tide pools? Ever trusting in her father's wisdom in the way of most little girls, she had quickly forgotten all of her half-formed questions in favor of a delightful day squealing over all the multi-colored organisms to be found in the rocky tide pools in the bay.

Now, as she thought back to those moments, it struck her as odd that she didn't remember any surprise in her father's face when the men had arrived. He had always been calm, collected, and thoughtful, but all of the events of that day were handled with even greater solemnity than he usually displayed. She also remembered an expression on his face that she hadn't understood then but did now: it was resolve and perhaps even a touch of sadness.

Once, when her father was inside their little house and she had made the excuse of a night stroll on the beach, she had approached the Table and drawn near to one of the Sleepers. After taking a moment to gather her courage she had stepped closer, close enough to reach out and touch his shoulder. At first her touch was feather-light, and she drew her hand back quickly as if she had been scalded. The Sleeper had remained completely motionless, however, and after a moment to still her thundering heart she reached out again. This time she brushed away the long locks that hid his face, revealing a visage she hadn't seen in years and was much altered since. The long beard and bush-like eyebrows hid most of his face, but she could still make out enough of his features to recognize him as the kindest of the three men. It was this man who, despite his exhaustion and hunger, had still spared her a small smile and stooped to pick a tiny flower to present to her. She had glanced nervously back to her father before stepping tentatively forward to take the posy with her best attempt at the curtsy her father had only just begun teaching her to perform.

She wondered at what he was dreaming, or if he was dreaming at all. Perhaps they weren't even a part of this world any longer; maybe they had passed into Aslan's country. She knows what death is, having seen the cycle of life pass season after season over the various plants and animals on the island. But these men are not dead, at least not in any way with which she is familiar.

Now, she gazes out across the vast and mighty ocean, keeping watch for any ships that might be headed toward her island home. Below her she can just make out the Sleepers and Aslan's Table, quickly disappearing into the gathering darkness twilight has brought. Beyond are the bay and the vast ocean spread out like a dark and mysterious blanket protecting the island from intrusion. To her right the candlelight twinkles through the leaded-glass window of their little house just as the Stars above her head sparkle down over all she sees. Her father is in the house and the candlelight reminds her of the future that awaits him. Soon he shall shine in his own right, again a young and vibrant Star placed in the heavens to guide weary travelers and provide comfort to lonely souls gazing out on a glorious and clear night sky. She knows that his heart longs to rejoin his fellows in their nightly celestial dance but also cannot imagine a moment when the two of them would be parted so eternally.

It is this thought that frightens her most of all, the idea of a future without her father in it. He has been her everything for so long that he seems inextricably linked to her very soul. Whatever the dreams mean, whatever the change is that is coming so soon and so mysteriously, she hopes that it will not be too painful and too permanent a parting if her father is not to go on this journey with her.

She wonders if, should her destiny take her far from this island and her father, she will be able to look up into the night sky as she is right now and recognize him among the millions of glittering Stars that crowd the heavens. She would like to imagine that she will, and that regardless of what is to come she will never be alone to face it.

She still needs some time before she is completely at peace with what Aslan has in store for her. She is trying very hard to be brave about it and to look forward to such a change with optimism and a sense of adventure, though she is not quite there yet. Regardless, a change is coming. The Sleepers are there still, but they may not be always. Her father the Star grows younger and stronger by the day. The golden-haired man continues to become clearer and clearer before her dreaming mind's eye, and perhaps someday soon she will understand what he has to do with her future. He will come to her; he may already be on his way. And she will continue to wait.

* * *

**Author's Endnote:** Thank you all so so so very much for reading through to the end of my humble little story! Thanks especially to **ElvesWizardsCentaursOhmy** and **Metonomia** for your wonderful reviews at the end of Chapter 5! I've had a lot of fun writing this, and am actually attempting to cook up something to spin off of the first chapter about Caspian's mother. Let me know if you have any interest and/or suggestions!

For now, though, I hope you are all enjoying your summer (or winter, depending on where you are!) and thank you all ever so much once again!


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